


A Little Yellow Flower

by LadySokolov



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Book and video game lore mash up, F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySokolov/pseuds/LadySokolov
Summary: Geralt of Rivia has the marks of two soulmates on his skin. One of them resembles a sprig of lilac and a trio of gooseberries. The other one is a little yellow flower which might be a marigold, or might be a dandelion.





	A Little Yellow Flower

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in a mixture of the book and game canons. I've recently found myself with a mighty need for Geralt x Dandelion, so here you go; my first Witcher fic.

The marks of two soulmates marred Geralt of Rivia’s skin. 

The first was a sprig of lilac and a trio of gooseberries that rested over his heart. There was hardly any mystery there. Yennefer had one of a white wolf in the same place on her body, and despite how many times he might have kissed the mark that claimed Yennefer as his, or how many times her hand might have rested longingly on top of the lilac and gooseberries over his own heart, they always seemed to dance around the issue of being soulmates as much as they danced around any aspect of their relationship, which is to say that on some days all one needed to do was look at how they treated one another to tell that they were soulmates, and on others they chose instead to pretend that one another did not exist.

Destiny had chosen them for one another, but that did not mean that their relationship was an easy one. Sometimes Geralt wondered if things would be any different if they did not have one another’s marks emblazoned on their skin.

Geralt’s other soulmate mark went undiscovered for the longest time. It sat on the hollow of his back, where he couldn’t see it without the aid of a mirror, no matter how much he twisted and turned.

Yennefer had pointed it out to him one day after making love. They were in the middle of a good phase, and Geralt had been feeling as though everything was right with the world. 

So of course something had to come along to change that.

The two of them had been perched on a hillside that overlooked a grand view of the woodlands around them and the lake that lay a little way off. Geralt had been laying naked on the cloak that they had used as a blanket, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his back and the warmth of his soulmate’s body curled up against his own, when suddenly Yennefer had sat up and leaned over Geralt to peer closer at something on his back.

“Geralt, what’s this?” Yennefer asked him, tracing a finger lightly over a small patch of skin right above his lower spine. “That’s not a tattoo is it?”

It wasn’t. The only marks that Geralt was aware of on his skin were the hundred or so scars that he had collected, and his soulmate mark (or perhaps it was marks now?)

“Geralt, love, I do believe you have a second soulmate,” Yennefer said, as though she had been reading his mind again, “or at least I assume that’s what this is.”

For a while Geralt didn’t know what to say. Until that moment he had not had any idea that the mark Yennefer spoke of had existed at all. Besides, having Yennefer as a soulmate seemed like enough of a commitment on it’s own without courting disaster by adding another person into the mix.

“What is it?” he eventually asked Yennefer.

“A yellow flower,” she replied. “It might be a marigold. Or perhaps a dandelion?”

“How long has it been there?” Geralt asked.

"How should I know?” Yennefer replied with a huff. “How much time do you think I spend staring at the small of your back, Geralt? I can’t even see this spot most of the time because it’s covered by your armor and your swords.”

Geralt realized he had absolutely no way of knowing how long the second mark had been there. For all he knew it could have been sitting there on the small of his back for his entire life.

A small yellow flower that might be a marigold. Or perhaps even a Merigold? It was an easy leap to make considering that he he and Triss Merigold had already spent a few days and nights in one another’s arms. With their marks in such an odd position she might not even realize that they were destined for one another. It would explain why she had never brought up the matter in conversation.

The other reason why Triss might have opted to stay silent was currently draped over his back, her fingers trailing around what he could only assume was the outline of the little yellow flower. 

Some people didn’t even get one soulmate. Having two was rare enough that Geralt still wasn’t entirely sure that Yennefer wasn’t playing some sort of horrible trick on him.

"Stop thinking about Merigolds and Dandelions,” Yennefer said, even though she was the one who was still tracing the outline of the flower on his back. “That is a mystery for another day, wouldn’t you say? For now perhaps you should roll over and allow me to take care of you for a while, hrm?”

She was right, as she usually was. Why waste time pondering about hypothetical marigolds when he already had lilac and gooseberries in his arms?

* * *

There had been a night, when Geralt and Dandelion had known one another long enough to consider themselves friends at the very least, when the two of happened, by chance, to be travelling along the same road and quickly decided they should travel together as one party. 

They had stopped for the night and set up a small fire. The night sky had been clear and Dandelion, still fawning over the lute that Toruviel had given him, had been strumming it gently without ever really playing anything.

It had been a good night. A peaceful night. The two of them had plenty of food to eat, and Geralt had even been able to purchase a small bottle of vodka at the last town they had passed through.

And then, for no reason at all that Geralt could fathom, Dandelion had stopped strumming and had turned to face the witcher with a rather serious expression on his face.

“Tell me Geralt,” he had said. “Do you have a soulmate?”

The question had taken Geralt by surprise, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. The bard had already proven himself, despite his womanizing ways, to be a hopeless romantic. No doubt tales of soulmates made excellent fodder for Dandelion’s ballads.

“I do,” Geralt replied simply. “Yennefer is my soulmate.”

“Ah, of course,” Dandelion muttered. He immediately frowned and began to strum his lute in a much more aggressive fashion. “The esteemed sorceress Yennefer of Vengerberg who I have heard so much about. And what mark does that vile harpy dare to lay claim to you with? A snake?”

At that time Geralt and Yennefer had been more inclined to ignoring one another’s existence than professing their love for one another, but still Geralt felt the need to defend her. 

“Lilac and gooseberries,” Geralt murmured. 

Dandelion scoffed and continued to play. Geralt almost felt a little sorry for the lute which was now having to bear the brunt of Dandelion’s anger, although the reason for said anger was lost on Geralt. Did Dandelion truly dislike Yennefer that much?

“She always smells of lilac and gooseberries,” Geralt explained. There was no reply from Dandelion. Geralt was not sure that it was a good sign, and not liking the strangely bitter silence that now stood between them, he continued. “Think it must be some cream or something that she uses.”

Still there was no reply. Perhaps it was best to not speak of Yennefer at all.

“And what of you master Dandelion? Does any woman try to claim you as her own?”

That was at least enough to bring a smile to Dandelion’s face.

“It would be a foolish woman indeed who would try such a thing, would it not?”

“Or a very patient one,” Geralt suggested.

“Perhaps,” Dandelion admitted, taking a moment to tune his lute. To Geralt’s ear there had been nothing wrong with it, but he supposed that was why Dandelion was the bard and he the witcher, “but we speak as though we poor foolish mortals have any say in the matter at all. Destiny, my dear White Wolf, is often not nearly as kind as we would wish her to be.”

“So you do have a soulmate,” Geralt guessed.

Dandelion smiled at him from across the fire, but it was not the sort of smile that Geralt was used to seeing on the other man’s face.There was something there, something dark and hidden and sad that threw Geralt completely off balance.

“I wonder,” Dandelion murmured. “Do I?”

And with that he launched into a long, haunting ballad that told the tragic tale of a man and woman who only realized they were soulmates as the man lay dying in the woman’s arms after a ferocious battle.

It would be months before Geralt and Yennefer would make up, and years before she would spot the little yellow flower on the hollow of Geralt’s back. 

* * *

Now that Geralt was aware of the little yellow flower on his back, he intended to do something about it as soon as possible. He managed to track down Triss Merigold the next time he was in Novigrad and arranged to meet with her. 

Triss greeted Geralt with an enthusiastic embrace and the two of them sat down to talk. For a long time Geralt said very little, and merely sat across from Triss, wondering how he was supposed to bring up the topic of the little yellow flower.

It had been so easy with Yennefer. She had been the one to bring the matter up, and there was little question in either of their minds that their marks pointed to one another. Geralt was not entirely sure that the little yellow flower on his back pointed to Triss Merigold at all. He hoped that it did, if only because he felt that having Triss as a soulmate had to be the most simple explanation for this new mystery in his life.

As Triss talked Geralt waited for the perfect moment to bring up what was on his mind, but the perfect moment never presented itself, and so Geralt did not mention the little yellow flower on his back, at least until Triss folded her hands on the table between them and gave Geralt the most gentle of smiles.

“Geralt?” she began. “It has been truly lovely to see you, but I have a hard time believing you came here just for the sake of seeing me. Is there something that you wish to talk to me about?”

Geralt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yennefer discovered a second soulmate mark on my back,” Geralt said, grateful for the opening that Triss had given him. “It’s a yellow flower. Might be a marigold.”

”And you think this means I might be your other soulmate?” Triss guessed.

Geralt nodded. Triss continued to smile gently at him, but did not say anything further, not for a long time.

Geralt wondered how Triss was going to react. She did not seem upset. In fact she seemed more amused by the news than anything else.

”May I see it?” Triss asked when she finally chose to speak once more.

“Of course,” Geralt replied as he got to his feet.

Together he and Triss lifted the thick leather armor on Geralt’s back up just far enough for Triss to inspect the mark. She knelt down and placed a hand on Geralt’s bare skin, peering rather more closely at the little yellow flower than Geralt thought necessary.

When Triss eventually pulled the armor back down and returned to standing in front of Geralt there was a mischievous grin on her face.

“That’s not a marigold,” Triss said. 

“How can you be sure?” Geralt asked.

“I don’t have a mark to match,” Triss replied. “You can check if you don’t believe me.”

She hoisted up the fabric at the back of her shirt just an inch or two, and smiled at him with eyes that promised far more that a simple glimpse of skin. Geralt was tempted to accept the offer, but the matter at hand was far too important for him to become distracted by such things. Besides, he trusted Triss. He did not need to check.

“It’s fine,” he told her. He did not even believe himself. This whole thing was far from fine. It was a bloody confusing nuisance, was what it was.

In response Triss sighed and reached up to cup the side of his face.

“Geralt,” Triss murmured, “As someone who knows both her flowers and her Geralt-of-Rivias quite well, I would wager that the little yellow flower on your back is not a Merigold at all, but a Dandelion.” 

* * *

“Hoy there Geralt!” a familiar voice called out from somewhere behind the witcher. He turned to find two riders approaching his own horse at a gallop. One of them was, as far as he could tell, a complete stranger, but the other was dear enough to Geralt that he felt a smile breaking out on his face just at the sight of the other man’s plum bonnet and the lute on his back. Despite the cold rain that seemed to be seeping through to his very core, Dandelion’s smile warmed his heart.

“Dandelion,” Geralt nodded at the bard in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” Dandelion said, “although I wish I could say I was as pleased with the weather. This rain makes travelling by horseback an absolute misery. May I assume you’re here in pursuit of the griffin?”

“You may,” Geralt replied. “And you would be correct to do so.”

A griffin had been spotted not more than a day’s ride from Oxenfurt, and had been making a nuisance of itself by feeding on the local sheep and cattle. An appropriately large bounty had been offered by a cabal of local farmers, and so Geralt was riding out to take care of the beast.

“And what brings you out here?” Geralt asked, sparing a glance for the stranger riding at Dandelion’s side. 

The stranger was portly, middle-aged and reasonably well-dressed. If he had to guess Geralt would have marked him as a member of the nobility and possibly one of Dandelion’s patrons. He looked the type. It would explain Dandelion’s association with him, but not why the two of them were out on the road in such bad weather.

“Ah, of course!” Dandelion exclaimed. “Please forgive my terrible manners gentlemen. In my delight at seeing my dear friend again I completely forgot to introduce the two of you. My lord, may I introduce Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, my travelling companion here is none other than the esteemed Lord Battersby of Battersby estate.”

Geralt had never heard of the man.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Geralt,” Lord Battersby assured him. “I hope you live up to the tales Dandelion here has been telling me.”

“Lord Battersby has commissioned me to compose an original piece for his son’s wedding,” Dandelion explained. “When I heard about the griffin I thought it might serve as excellent inspiration for the piece.”

“We decided to ride out and watch the griffin do battle with whoever proved brave enough to face it,” Lord Battersby added. “I never would have guessed that the man in question would be none other than the Geralt that Dandelion has told me so much about.”

Lord Battersby adjusted himself in his saddle, and then faced Geralt once more.

“To tell you the truth,” he began. “I had thought Dandelion must have been exaggerating events when recounting them. Why, just this morning I was telling him how unlikely I thought it that the two of you would cross one another’s paths as often as you seem to in his stories, and yet here I am to see the two of you united by fate once more.”

Lord Battersby let out a hearty laugh.

“It seems as though it’s just your destiny to keep crossing paths like this, right lads?” Battersby added, heartily thumping Geralt on the back in what was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture.

Geralt found himself frowning at Battersby’s words; not because he disliked the thought of having Dandelion at his side all the time. Far from it. He quite enjoyed the bard’s company. He just did not like the thought of Destiny choosing who he should elect to spend his time with, as though Geralt was not capable of selecting a friend that suited him as excellently as Dandelion did without her interference.

“Perhaps,” Geralt muttered.

Something that Battersby had said looked to have put Dandelion in a less than pleasant mood as well. The bright smile that he had worn while approaching Geralt had faded, and the bard had fallen silent and still.

“Well, the two of you probably have a lot to discuss,” Lord Battersby said as he glanced between the two of them. He gave Geralt’s back another hearty thump. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

With that the noble was riding back in the direction he had first come from. Geralt looked behind him to discover a small group travelling on the road a few hundred yards behind them.

“He insisted on bringing half of his household with us, despite the fact that we will only be out here for two or three days,” Dandelion explained without Geralt ever actually needing to ask.

Geralt waited for the bard to say more. Surely there was a story coming, or at least a complaint about the quality of Lord Battersby’s kitchen or the manners of his guards. But there was nothing. 

Instead the bard stared out at the countryside ahead of them, where the hills and fields were covered in a soft, cold mist thanks to the miserable weather, and remained silent.

Geralt did not like seeing Dandelion so quiet and still. He couldn’t help feeling as though something he or Lord Battersby had said earlier had upset the bard, and endeavored to find some way to improve his friend’s mood.

“Well I for one can certainly think of much worse fates,” Geralt said aloud, giving voice to the thought that had remained hidden in the privacy of his own mind during their earlier conversation.

“Hrm?” Dandelion responded, not perking up but at least offering Geralt some of his attention. “What are you talking about Geralt?”

“What Battersby said before about the two of us being destined to always meet up like this,” Geralt explained. “I can certainly think of worse fates than to always have you by my side.”

Geralt’s words worked better than he could have hoped. Dandelion’s mood appeared to immediately improve. He sat higher in his saddle and Geralt would have sworn that even the soaked egret feather in his cap stood up a little straighter.

“I should certainly hope so!” Dandelion exclaimed with a chuckle. “Why, there are women out there who would kill to be bound to me as you are.”

“I’m not sure I’d got that far,” Geralt said with a chuckle.

To his surprise Dandelion’s joyous energy immediately seemed to fade once more, although he did not sink into the same melancholy as before. The two of them settled into a relatively comfortable silence as they traveled, and all Geralt could hear was the gentle hum of the rain, and the splashes and thumps of their horses’ hooves on the muddy road, punctuated occasionally by the chatter coming from Lord Battersby’s convoy on the road behind them.

“For what it’s worth,” Dandelion muttered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “I for one am glad that our destinies are intertwined.”

He looked over at Geralt then and smiled, but it was not the sort of smile that Geralt was used to seeing on the other man’s face. Instead it was something much more raw and honest and vulnerable, and Geralt felt his heart skip a beat or two at the sight.

“I suppose I am too,” Geralt admitted, and then the two of them continued to ride on in silence.

It would be a few more months before Yennefer would notice the little yellow flower resting in the hollow of Geralt’s back, but that did not change the fact that it had already been there for years. 

* * *

It only took a few hours following his talk with Triss and a couple of much needed drinks for Geralt to accept that yes, the flower on his back was probably a dandelion. Geralt didn’t know whether he should curse himself for his own stupidity, or the little yellow flower for existing in the first place, hiding away on the small of his back where no-one could see it for who knew how many years.

Then again, Triss had seen it for what it was, as perhaps, had Yennefer. What was it that his other soulmate had said; ‘it might be a Merigold, or perhaps a Dandelion?’ Perhaps Geralt himself was the only one who had remained blind to the little yellow flower on his back.

He wasn’t sure what he should do about it though. It had all seemed so simple when he had thought that the flower was a marigold. There had always been something more between himself and Triss, but a potential relationship with Dandelion seemed so much more complicated. Dandelion was a beloved friend of course, but if anything that just made matters worse. Geralt did not want to risk losing his closest friend just because destiny insisted they were supposed to be more than that.

And so he resolved to do nothing at all, and to think about the little yellow flower as little as possible. Instead he threw himself into his work, accepting whatever contracts came along, and trying not to think about how easy it was for him to imagine taking Dandelion’s face in his hands and kissing him senseless, or to ponder on whether there might be a symbol on the small of Dandelion’s back that marked him as Geralt’s.

But Destiny, as usual, had other plans for Geralt of Rivia.

He had been travelling to the Seven Cats Inn just outside of Novigrad in order to meet with a potential client. As he approached the inn he realized he could hear the sound of music coming from within the building.

When he opened the door and stepped inside, he found that the music was coming from none other than Dandelion himself, who was standing on one of the inn’s tables and playing his lute for a large group of men and women who had gathered around him.

Geralt almost turned around and fled as soon as he recognized the bard, but at that moment Dandelion caught his eyes and sent him a wide and enthusiastic grin. The bard then launched into the next verse of his song with renewed vigor, while Geralt cast his eyes around the inn for any sign of the client he was supposed to be meeting with.

His client wasn’t there, and a quick talk with both the innkeeper and the barmaid let Geralt know that they were unlikely to show any time soon. He grabbed a mug of cheap ale and found an empty table near the back of the room, where he sat and watched a master bard play for the drunken patrons of the Seven Cats Inn for a handful of coins.

Dandelion finished his current song, and then leaped down from the tables, apologizing to the crowd around him and thanking them for their support. He sent Geralt another wide grin, which Geralt had to force himself to return, before the bard made his way towards the innkeeper.

The bard and the innkeeper conversed for a while, Dandelion smiling graciously the whole time, while the innkeeper argued and flailed his arms about and generally looked displeased about something. Geralt’s hand instinctively started to creep towards the steel sword on his back, lest he should suddenly need to leap to Dandelion’s defense, but in the end it was not needed. Money changed hands, and even though the innkeeper did not look at all happy with the transaction, he allowed Dandelion to head back over to Geralt without further complaint.

Dandelion sighed happily as he slid into the chair opposite Geralt’s own.

“What a pleasure it is to see you my friend,” Dandelion said. “I am glad that destiny has seen fit to unite us once more. Now, may I ask what brings you to this horrid establishment?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting with a client,” Geralt replied. “They haven’t shown.”

“Well, I’m doubly glad that we happened to meet up then,” Dandelion replied. “I shall keep you company, and then your journey out here will not have been for naught.”

“I suppose,” Geralt replied. He realized then how nervous he had become just being in Dandelion’s presence.

He tried to avoid staring too long at Dandelion’s eyes, which made his heart turn uncomfortably in his chest, and then realized that he was instead glancing towards the spot on Dandelion’s back where a soulmate mark might rest.

“Ah, to hell with this,” he exclaimed, thumping his hands on the table and making Dandelion’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I can’t stand this anymore. Dandelion, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course,” Dandelion replied. “By all means, talk away. I am listening.”

Geralt glanced around at the crowded inn. There were too many people. If he had to talk to Dandelion about the little yellow flower on his back then he would would have preferred that there were as few witnesses as possible nearby when things inevitably became even more embarrassing than they had with Triss.

“Not here,” Geralt said. “Is there somewhere we can…”

“I have a room booked for the night,” Dandelion replied. “Come. We should be able to talk undisturbed in there.”

Geralt followed Dandelion to the back of the establishment and then up a set of stairs to a small room in the corner of the inn. It wasn’t particularly fancy, but none of the rooms in the Seven Cats Inn were.

Dandelion closed the door behind them and then turned to face Geralt.

“There,” he remarked. “Privacy at last. Now what is it Geralt? Judging by how serious you seem the matter must be one of dreadful importance. Are you quite all right?”

“I’m fine,” Geralt replied. “Or at least, my problem is merely a personal one, and not anything that you should worry too much over.”

“Why Geralt, as someone who cares deeply about you I would say that any personal problem of yours is very much something that I should worry over. In fact I cannot help but worry, and demand that you tell me what it is that bothers you at once so I may correct it.”

Geralt found himself smiling at the bard despite how worried the impending conversation caused him to be.

“Yennefer found a second soulmate mark on my body,” Geralt began, figuring that it was probably better to get the conversation over and done with as soon as possible. “It’s on my back, so I didn’t notice it. It’s… Well… I think it might be a dandelion.”

Dandelion did not say anything, and if Triss’s initial silence had been troubling then Dandelion’s was even more so, because while Triss had at least looked somewhat thoughtful Dandelion looked as though he was going to burst into laughter at any second. Geralt was not sure how he had expected Dandelion to react, but it certainly wasn’t with laughter.

He found himself hoping that Dandelion’s amusement did not mean the same as Triss’s; that Geralt could not possibly lay claim to them, and that his search for his soulmate had not yet reached it’s end. Common wisdom dictated that a soulmate mark only appeared on one’s body when one had already met the person in question. If Geralt’s soulmate was neither Triss nor Dandelion then Geralt had no idea who it might be.

And besides, after the images of Dandelion that his mind had been torturing him with over the last few weeks, he would have been a fool not to admit, at least to himself, that a not so small part of him genuinely wanted Dandelion as a soulmate.

“Dandelion,” Geralt murmured. “Please say something.”

And that was apparently all it took for Dandelion to break. What started as simple giggling soon had the bard doubled over and gasping for air.

“My goodness,” Dandelion eventually gasped. “You… You’re telling me you didn’t know until now?”

“Well, not now exactly,” Geralt replied, now rather annoyed by the fact that Dandelion was still chuckling. “Yenn spotted it a couple of months ago.”

“Only a couple of months?” Dandelion said when his laughter allowed him. “Geralt, they’ve been there for years!”

Geralt folded his arms and waited for Dandelion to get himself back under control. It had not escaped his notice that Dandelion had said ‘they’ in regard to his mark, probably implying that he had a mark on his back to match Geralt’s own, although why he should find the whole situation so amusing was still lost on the witcher.

“Well I am sorry Dandelion, but clearly I don’t spend as much time looking at my own arse in the mirror as you do,” Geralt snapped, finding himself losing patience with the other man.

“I apologize,” Dandelion said as he finally straightened himself out. “It is just that I have been such a fool. This whole time I thought you knew and had simply chosen that awful sorceress instead, when in truth…”

“This is why you’ve always hated Yennefer, isn’t it?” Geralt realized. “Because she...”

“Because she stole you from me?” Dandelion interrupted, all of the laughter having suddenly disappeared from his voice. “Because you had both of our marks on your body, and yet she was the one you chose to go back to, time and time again? Because I thought that you had willingly chosen her over me, and that you ignored the marks on my back and on yours because it was convenient, and because you had decided that there wasn’t room in your heart for the both of us? Because I couldn’t help but wonder if you chose to cast me aside because I was born a man while you clearly prefer beautiful women, and Yennefer is lucky enough to sport an excellent arse and even better tits? Yes Geralt. I have hated Yennefer for all of these reasons and more. What right does she has to play such games as she does with you when I would cherish every moment you spent with me?”

“But there is no truth to anything you say,” Geralt argued. “I have been a fool, but I never intended to be cruel.”

“I realize that now,” Dandelion replied, “or at least my head does. The heart is a much more foolish organ, and so I suppose it will be a while before it catches up with the rest of us. So, while we wait for it, do you suppose that I might take a look?”

“At the mark on my back?”

“Indeed,” Dandelion replied with a grin. “That was my meaning. There are of course other things that I might take a look at, but I do think that one of us should at least make an attempt at wooing the other properly before we get that far. Don’t you?”

His eyes darted down, if only briefly, to the front of Geralt’s pants. The witcher felt himself blushing. He wasn’t sure that another man had ever caused him to blush before that moment.

Dandelion approached Geralt, his hands slowly reaching up to rest on the witcher’s sides. The bard glanced up at him, as though checking whether such a simple and intimate touch was allowed, and it was in that moment that it really hit Geralt; Dandelion truly was destined for him, just as Yennefer was. He was suddenly hit with the almost undeniable urge to kiss the other man, but he resisted.

Geralt reached up to place his hands on top of Dandelion’s own, guiding them to the witcher’s belt buckle. Dandelion smiled up at Geralt as his skilled fingers began to make quick work of the various belts and buttons on Geralt’s clothing. Geralt reached up to remove his swords and gently place them on the floor, and by the time he was done Dandelion was almost finished with the rest of Geralt’s jacket.

Before long Geralt was standing in the middle of the room, naked from the waist up. Dandelion moved to kneel behind Geralt and placed his hands gently on each of the witcher’s hips.

Geralt couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Dandelion was up to something, and wanted to glance back at the bard, but at the same time he could not bring himself to move.

Geralt felt the warmth of the other man’s breath on the bare skin of his back, and then Dandelion leaned forward to press a kiss right on the spot where the little yellow flower lay.

“Yes,” he murmured as his lips retreated from Geralt’s skin. “I think you’ll find that this little yellow flower is most definitely a Dandelion.”

Geralt was surprised by how right it felt to be claimed by the other man, and felt a shiver run down his spine. He gasped as Dandelion’s fingers dug a little harder into his hips.

“And what mark did I leave on you?” Geralt asked as Dandelion leaned in to press another feather light kiss to Geralt’s skin, just above where he had placed the first one.

“Oh my dear,” Dandelion breathed into the skin on Geralt’s back, the warmth of his words sending another shudder down Geralt’s spine. “You have left more marks on me than I can count, but the one that marks me indisputably as yours takes the form of a white wolf.”

“May I see it?” Geralt asked, finding it surprisingly difficult to form the words while Dandelion’s hands still rested on his hips.

“You may,” Dandelion replied. He placed one last kiss on Geralt’s back, again right where the little yellow flower sat, and then got to his feet.

Geralt had anticipated that Dandelion would remove his shirt right there, just as Geralt had done, but instead the bard took Geralt by the hand and began to lead him towards the room’s one and only bed. 

Geralt went willingly, although he could feel his heart hammering in his chest at the thought of what might happen in that bed. He had never lain with another man, but the thought of Dandelion stretched out beneath him was one that his body responded to with an undeniable amount of interest.

Dandelion sat down with his back to Geralt and immediately began to remove his own clothing. By the time Geralt sat down beside the bard Dandelion was just as naked as Geralt. 

The witcher could feel his own hands shaking as he moved to sit behind Dandelion. He reached out hesitantly to caress Dandelion’s back. The other man’s skin was so smooth and perfect; not covered in scars like his own, and the sight of Geralt’s mark on the bard’s perfect skin took his breath away.

Dandelion had already said that the mark Geralt had left on him was a white wolf, the same as his mark on Yennefer, and Geralt had been expecting it to look the same as Yennefer’s as well. However in reality they could not have been more different. The wolf on Yennefer’s heart was relatively realistic, and showed a white wolf with golden eyes howling at the sky. Dandelion’s however looked almost identical to the wolf medallion that Geralt wore around his neck, only etched in sharp black and white lines. The mark was no larger than a gold coin, but bore so much detail.

Geralt ran his thumb over the mark, before leaning forward to place a kiss on Dandelion’s shoulder.

“You’ve been mine all this time,” Geralt murmured.

“I have,” Dandelion said.

“And you knew it,” Geralt marveled.

“I knew,” Dandelion confessed.

“And yet you said nothing?”

“Would my speaking of it really have made that much of a difference?” Dandelion asked. “Back when we were just beginning to know one another, could I have really had you if I had only asked?”

Geralt was not sure. He wanted to say yes, but then again, he could not know for sure. What was the point in speculating on such things?

He wrapped his arms around Dandelion and turned the bard around just enough for Geralt to be able to look him in the eyes.

“You can have me now,” Geralt offered.

And then they were both moving, closing the few inches between them and pressing their lips against one another’s.

Dandelion moaned and twisted around in Geralt’s arms so that before long he was sitting in Geralt’s lap, their bare chests pressed against one another, and somehow he managed to do it without breaking the kiss for more than a moment.

Geralt was surprised by how natural it all seemed, by how right it felt to have Dandelion’s lips trapping his own, and how comfortable his hands felt caressing the sides of Dandelion’s slender torso.

The bard kept making the most delicious moans as well. Geralt should have known that Dandelion would sound incredible even when lost in the throes of passion.

Slowly but surely the two of them started to tip over as they moved to lie down on the bed, Geralt on top of Dandelion and their lips still connected in a passionate series of kisses and bites. Dandelion was capable of certain acts with his tongue that soon left Geralt absolutely breathless and barely able to think straight.

Geralt had been hard since approximately two seconds into the first kiss, and he could feel Dandelion responding in kind beneath him. The bard tilted his hips, grinding up against the larger man, and Geralt pulled back from the kiss with a gasp.

He stared down at Dandelion’s flushed form. The bard’s cap had fallen off at some stage, and now lay ruffled on the thin mattress beside him. 

Dandelion looked back up at him with a smile, but it was not the sort of smile that Geralt was used to seeing on the other man’s face, at all. This smile was full of fire, and promise; the sort of smile Dandelion must have used to seduce a hundred women before Geralt came along and claimed him, and it took Geralt’s breath away.

The bard then grabbed one of Geralt’s hands in his own, moving it so that it sat on the curve of Dandelion’s waistline.

“My dear,” Dandelion practically purred. “I rather think the both of us are still wearing far too many clothes, don’t you?”

“I thought you said one of us needed to be wooed before we got this far?” Geralt asked, the corner of his mouth moving up into a grin no matter how much he tried to suppress it.

Dandelion laughed at that and moved his legs up to wrap around Geralt’s arse and pull him further down on top of the bard.

“Consider me wooed,” he told Geralt, before wrapping his arms around the witcher’s shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss. 

* * *

Afterwards, as the two of them lay curled up in the bed, their limbs still entangled with one another’s, Dandelion placed his hand on top of Geralt’s heart and frowned.

“If I place my hand like this,” Dandelion said, splaying his hand in a rather unnatural pose, “then you can’t even see it at all.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Geralt murmured. “After all, you’re the one curled up against me right now, aren’t you?”

“Oh, of course you’re right,” Dandelion said, letting out a melodramatic sigh before nuzzling in to Geralt’s shoulder. “I suppose I have no choice but to eventually grow accustomed to sharing you with that sorceress.”

He spat out the word ‘sorceress’ as though it was a curse.

“Why do I get the feeling that it will be a long time before I’m able to convince you both to share a bed with me at the same time?”

“Because my dear White Wolf,” Dandelion murmured, “you know me far too well.”

“I do,” Geralt murmured, thinking of a few other problems that he might have to deal with now that he had Dandelion as a soulmate. “I suppose I will have to grow used to sharing you as well.”

“Perhaps not as much as you think,” Dandelion replied, shifting himself so that more of his body was aligned with Geralt’s own before placing another kiss on Geralt’s skin, this one on the other man’s chest. “I find that making love is far superior when it’s with someone that you actually love, don’t you?”

Geralt smiled softly and leaned in to press a kiss to Dandelion’s forehead.

“You’re right,” he said. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact; Dandelion’s name in the original books (Jaskier) actually translates directly as Buttercup, just to make things even more confusing. XD Yellow flowers everywhere.  
> If there’s enough call for it I might add a coda or second chapter for this from Dandelion’s POV. I’m not sure yet.


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